


Beginning + End

by soulswimmer



Category: Here It Comes (Webcomic), Satan and Me (Webcomic)
Genre: Established Relationship? you spend an eternity together some hand holding is inevitable, M/M, man im bad at tags, themes on death, there's blood in there too, there's no BLATANT natan outside of canon but it cant be anymore obvious that i ship natan, whump its a crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 15:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14168163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulswimmer/pseuds/soulswimmer
Summary: In the natural order of things, the dying breath of a person is to become the first breath of air of a newborn. Two entities, the Beginning and End, are assigned with handling such a task. But with recent anomalies occuring in the living world call this natural order and their purpose into question. [Here It Comes/ Satan and Me Crossover]





	Beginning + End

**Author's Note:**

> Ao3: ur the first to post about HiC on here  
> gOD i gotta do aLL THE woRK ARoUnd HERE

End knows a thing or two about dying at the wrong time.

So when finds her at a run down motel, a rose amidst a filthy backdrop, he knows deep within his heart that it wasn’t supposed to be her time. He walks through the wall with ease, eyeing the dark haired man just outside the door, one hand on the doorknob and the other running through his hair. End frowns. He’s about to be a lot more stressed when he sees what the motel room contains.

End slips off his gloves as he gets a good look at the girl. His lip quivers. It  _so_ wasn’t supposed to be her time. But death has a certain kind of unpredictability that cares not for life expectancy and popular aging longevity.

Now, don’t be mistaken, he’s no grim reaper. The horseman Death’s job is delivering souls to where they’re going. End’s job is more about collecting the last breath of the living, sending it to be filtered and reused to give life. One might say he dictates the moment they die, cutting the string of fate. So, when his soul was reaped and examined, his Earth name was stripped and replaced with a title. He is, simply, the End.

End creeps closer to her bedside, cringing at the sound of her shallow breathing. She sleeps so peacefully, fiery orange hair pooled around a clammy face that had once hosted a smile. Each breath she takes sounds more like a wheeze, like a boot coming down on her lungs and forcing the air out of her.

He sniffs, trying not to cry for the fourth time today. She must be in so much pain.

“Natalie,” her name occurs to him with a start, and he wonders how many people would be crying her name at her funeral. Natalie.

“It’s okay, Natalie,” he says, standing over her bedside. He raises a hand that’s marred with black where pale human skin used to be. “I promise it’s painless.”

He reaches down and lays his hand across her chest. She would never have to strangle out another breath again. He applies just the slightest bit of pressure, and Natalie sighs, almost contently, and is still.

End’s hand glows a pale blue as he holds the breath gently, a fondness he hasn’t been able to shake despite centuries of doing his job.

He feels another presence as soon as it materializes.

“Jamie,” a quiet voice greets from behind him, and End turns around to face his counterpart.

Beginning knows he isn’t technically supposed to use their Earth names, but it had become a habit neither of them had been able to shake since the very start. Jamie doesn’t realize there are tears tracking down his cheeks until Francisco, the Beginning, pops an eyebrow at him.

“It isn’t fair, Francisco,” he sniffles as Francisco approaches, eyes on the breath in his hand. “You get the fun job. A-and I have to—”

“You get to make preparations for Death. It’s not that bad, you big baby,” he retorts. Jamie had become immune to his pokes and prods around the turn of the 19th century. “Let me see it.”

Jamie wipes away his tears with his other hand. “Take good care of it.”

With a curt nod, Francisco holds out his hands, and Jamie clasps them with both of his, watching as the wispy breath gently bobbles, engulfing their hands until its blue tinge turns gold, and slowly fades as Francisco absorbs it.

Francisco’s hands are clasped around Jamie’s for a moment longer than necessary, but neither say a word about it.

“Heaven is going to throw a fit about this,” Francisco remarks after they both let go.

Jamie wipes his nose and cocks his head curiously. “What? Why?”

“Didn’t you see who’s at the door?”

“Her boyfriend or something? I don’t know.”

“No, idiot, go and look closer.”

Jamie does, peeking back through the wall of the motel where the man is still frozen in time, ill prepared for what lies ahead. It’s when Jamie looks close enough to recognize that frown—

“Oh shit!” he exclaims, running back to Francisco, who stands, unimpressed. “That’s— so that’s—” he gestures wildly to Natalie’s body, a whole new wave of fear washing over him.

“She wasn’t supposed to die, Francisco. This is some big time bad news. Isn’t she like, the prophecy child or something?”

“Yes. But that’s Heaven’s problem to deal with.”

Jamie doesn’t realize he’s pulling at his hair until Francisco’s hands reach up and swat them away. Green eyes bore into his, a tactic Jamie had once thought was for pure intimidation. Nowadays, he found it to be grounding.

“It’s Heaven’s problem,” Francisco repeats slowly. “So stop making it your own.”

Jamie pouts and looks down, his heart still achy from the sight of the sick prophecy child. “It’s so hard.”

“But not impossible. Carry on, Jamie,” he replies, and, without a bidding of farewell, claps his hands together and disappears, probably to some adorable happy couple giving birth to their baby boy. End sighs sadly and eyes the door, where Satan himself was about to come through.

“Sorry for what you’re about to see, buddy,” End mutters, pitying the devil for the first time. He puts his glove back on and claps his hands as Beginning did, and he’s instantly transported somewhere else, where another person on their deathbed awaits.

It’s about the cycle of life. The first and last breath a human takes are considered precious. They mark the beginning and end of a life. Each breath that a person breathes for a last time is used to bring a baby into the world. Strangely poetic, but also kinda gross the more you think about it.Two souls, one who was born at the wrong time, and the other who died at the wrong time, were tasked with collecting and distributing these breaths. End accepted his job for what it was. It was only fair that someone did the dirty work of watching humans die millions of times, but that didn’t mean he had to be desensitized to it.

* * *

It’s the same exact day that End was summoned, much to his surprise. Amidst a hoard of dead bodies, he hears a voice in his head, quiet, but with an edge he’s can’t miss after centuries of conversations. It wasn’t common that he hears fear in Francisco’s voice.

“Jamie, I need you.”

The words barely process in Jamie’s brain before he slams his hands together, willing himself to materialize himself at Francisco’s side. And materialize he does, to a semi-familiar scene. The girl from earlier, Natalie, is sprawled on the floor, with the devil laying next to her, a pool of blood surrounding him. Jamie can see the pain on his face, but there’s a shaky smile there too, with tears tracked down his face.

“Holy shit,” he whispers at the scene, jumping as his eyes scope over and see the Horseman Death standing over them. At Jamie’s side, he sees Francisco staring at the scene, skin chalky and eyes wide, clearly repulsed at the site. Before he asks any questions, Jamie has his arm wrapped around Francisco’s shoulder and pulls his friend close to him with a fierce tug. He’s not sure what he’s protecting Francisco from— Death, or the grotesque scene laid out before them, but protection is all that’s on his mind.

“It’s not natural,” Francisco mutters, swaying just a bit. Jamie glares at Death.

“What the  _fuck have you done_?” he demands. Death does not take his eyes (skull holes?) off of Natalie and Satan, frozen in time.

 _I NEED HIM TO GIVE THE GIRL HER BREATH BACK._  words echo in Jamie’s head. He flinches. He wishes Death would just turn to him and talk like a normal person.

“No. It tampers with the orders of things. She’s dead. Let her stay dead,” Francisco spits. Jamie rubs his shoulder in an attempt to be supportive.

_I MADE A WAGER, AND I OWE THE BASTARD HIS GIRL BACK. I COULD ONLY GET PART OF HER SOUL, THOUGH. SHE JUST NEEDS SOME AIR. COME ON, BEGINNING, STOP BEING A PUSSY AND LET ME GET THIS OVER WITH._

“I said no.”

“Wait—” Jamie interjects. “Part of her soul? What does that mean?” he doesn’t know a lot about soul stuff, but that sounds…. Anything but natural.

_THAT IS NONE OF YOUR CONCERN. YOU CRY OVER, LIKE, EVERYTHING, RIGHT? I BET YOU CRIED WHEN SHE DIED. DON’T YOU WANT HER TO LIVE?_

Jamie swallows. Yes, he wants her to live. Very badly, if she’s so important. And… though he hates to admit it… the look on Lucifer’s face…

He looks so tired. End never thought he’d see the Devil caring for someone, much less a human.

“Beginning…” he starts, and Francisco instantly shoves Jamie off of him, stumbling as he wriggles out of reach. He’s still clearly nauseous at the sight of the blood, but he finds it in him to glare at Jamie.

“You  _want_ me to bring her back? Are you being dramatic or are you really that stupid? This is not the order of things.”

Jamie looks down, almost ashamed, but fights to find words. “She’s the prophecy child, Beginning. Her death itself was probably… not a part of the order of things.”

For a moment, Francisco’s deadpan face fools Jamie into thinking he’ll argue, when he suddenly looks at the floor, pensive. Jamie did not expect that.

_JESUS, YOU TWO ARGUE LIKE AN OLD MARRIED COUPLE, WILL YOU HURRY UP AND DO IT ALREADY?_

Jamie walks over and takes one of Francisco’s hands. “I’m sorry, Beginning. I don’t like the sound of it either. But maybe, if we make an exception just this once…”

“Why should I care about the prophecy child? It’s not like she can prevent the End of Days,” Francisco tries, and Jamie shivers at the sound of his title being used to refer to the rapture.

“Well…” he protests. “You’d be out of a job.” He’s surprised at how much his own words make sense so he continues. “All death. No new life. If you want to talk about the balance of things, that’s totally tipping the scale, right? If Natalie has a shot at, y’know, not getting everyone on Earth super dead, we’d have at least more time before fading into obscurity.”

Francisco freezes, casting a glance at Natalie’s corpse before looking back to Jamie. Jamie bites his lip, hoping that his hunch doesn’t result in something terrible happening. He hopes that Natalie’s new life will bring more good.

“Sometimes the order of things needs to be a little messed up so that later it can be made right again.”

Even Death has the dignity to let Francisco think.

“Fine. But I won’t do it again,” Francisco says. “Someone is going to die when they’re not supposed to because of this.”

Jamie tries for a smile, finding it difficult to ignore the pain that concept would cause. “Well, it happens to some of us. Maybe they’ll get lucky like I did and find someone like you.”

Francisco’s mouth opens a little bit in surprise, and the look in his eyes softens for just a flash, before Francisco becomes Beginning, and turns to Death.

_ARE YOU TWO DONE MAKING OUT, YET?_

“Shut up. I’ll do it.” Beginning wanders over to Natalie’s body, kneeling by her side and cringing visibly as he steps over the puddle of blood from Satan’s wounds.

End rarely gets to see Beginning do his work, so he watches in quiet admiration as he slips off his gloves to reveal a glowing, yellow hand.

((They had worked in tandem once, when a woman died in childbirth. Jamie had been nearly inconsolable. It was the first time Francisco had held him, just for a few minutes. It would take just one word from Francisco for Jamie to do the same. Prophecy child or not, there’s nothing natural about it.))

With a reluctant sigh, Beginning reaches down and presses his hand against Natalie’s still body, her whole body suddenly taking on the faintest glow.

“Consider this an act of mercy,” Beginning mutters to a person who cannot hear him.

After a moment, time resumes for just a second, and End tears up as he hears the sound of a quiet gasp, clear, without any sickness, and the girl’s chest slowly rises and falls. Natalie is alive.

Time freezes again, and, without really thinking, End tears off his glove, tears still in his eyes, and hastily walks over to Natalie, hand hovering over the very place that Beginning had just blessed with life.

 _ **HEY HEY HEY WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?**_  Death booms. Beginning does not flinch as End shoots a glare at Death.

“Tell me what you mean by  _most of her soul_ ,” he demands.

UGH, YOU TWO ARE SUCH A PAIN IN MY ASS. RETRIEVING HER FROM HELL WAS DIFFICULT, HER HEART STUBBORNLY STAYED WITH LUCIFER’S SOUL. I DO NOT KNOW WHAT THE FALLOUT WILL ENTAIL. COULD YOU DO ME A SOLID AND NOT KILL HER FOR A SECOND TIME?

“Her heart…stayed in Hell?” Beginning wondered aloud. End was similarly perplexed.

_I DID WHAT I COULD. IT WAS THAT BRAT’S FAULT FOR STAYING WITH HELL SO WORKED UP ABOUT HER LEAVING. NOW GET OUT OF MY SIGHT._

Before End can react, he’s transported from the site, into a plane of white nothingness. It’s not frightening, as End and Beginning are sometimes placed in this realm for rest and recuperation. It was here where they started, and if Heaven decided to dispose of them, it would likely be the last place they’d be as well.

Jamie turns. “I’m sorry, Francisco. I’m so sorry.”

Francisco shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I was going to do it eventually anyways. I called you there to help.”

“You mean you called me for emotional support,” Jamie fights a smile when Francisco scoffs in disgust. “Aww, Francisco, you like me!”

“Shut the hell up. I regret the day I met you.”

“Do not.”

“Do too. Shut up.”

Francisco claps and is gone, and with a giddy smile, Jamie prepares himself for another day’s work and does the same.

* * *

Some time passes before End can hear Francisco’s voice in his head once again, sighing in relief that it doesn’t sound as strained as it did the last time.

“Jamie. I need you.”

He claps and is at Francisco’s side, but the scene is different this time. Unfortunately it’s still pretty grotesque, as Jamie takes in the frozen scene of a hospital room, but it is less grim. A woman with pretty brown hair lays on a hospital bed. She’s surrounded by a nurse, a man who’s gripping her hand, and a doctor at the end of the bed. Her legs are splayed out, and her face is frozen in a twist of pain. The man who is presumably her husband looks on the verge of tears watching his wife, while the medical technicians are the picture of calm.

“She’s about to welcome her daughter into the world,” Francisco speaks finally, taking his glove off.

“Why are you showing me this?” Jamie asks, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows the answer.

“You wanted to see what it was like to have my job. Well, now you get to see how fucking unsanitary it is. Put your hand on me and watch.”

Jamie blinks in surprise but obeys, hesitantly reaching for Francisco. In a moment of bravery, he brushes his fingers against Francisco’s, and smile when they intertwine with his.

Time runs in slow motion as Francisco reaches towards the woman, where the rather unsightly scene of a baby being born is taking place, and the head of the infant is visible. With a grimace, Francisco lays his fingers on the baby’s head, which goes aglow. In an instant, Jamie gasps as he hears the sound of a little heartbeat in his head, can feel the distress, the awe, the confusion of the infant. It is overwhelming and a miracle in and of itself. He can feel Francisco putting life into the baby as she breathes her first breath, and that gasp is all he can hear for just a moment. Tears breach Jamie’s eyes for what must be the fourth time that day, but for once, they aren’t tears of grief.

He keeps a grip on Francisco’s hand as time unfreezes and the two watch, invisible, as the scene plays itself out. Jamie barely realizes how he’s leaning on Francisco until the baby is completely detached from the mother’s body, and the woman, crying in relief and joy, is kissed on the cheek by her husband.

“It’s amazing,” Jamie mumbles.

“Two hundred and fifty people are born every second,” replies Francisco, nonplussed.

“But it’s amazing every time, isn’t it?”

Francisco doesn’t answer him, and they stay and watch the scene for a while longer,

until the Beginning and End are called back to a work that never stops.

* * *

The Beginning and The End never meet under the most pretty circumstances. Where there are hundreds born every minute, more are dying, and both processes require the End and Beginning. While death and decomposition are most unsightly sights to behold, birth is preceded by immeasurable pain and hardship, carried out with great anxiety, and followed by a careful caution hopefully executed by both parent and child, in hopes to delay the inevitable. When they coincide in the same place, the two most powerful beings to the living world unite. It is hardly a joyful reunion.

However, the Beginning and End go hand in hand, the catalysts for a greater cycle experienced by all living thing. That, if you ask Jamie, is perhaps the most breathtaking thing he could ever be a part of.


End file.
